Slumbering Shadows
by QueenOfCitrus
Summary: GinHitsu: *prequel to 'Illuminated Illusions'*; Before the light, there are the shadows, and in the darkness you can forget about the consequences of even the most terrible sins. Toushiro has no idea that all this time he's been sleeping with a traitor... But he's going to find out soon. FINISHED!
1. Chapter 1

**_A/N: So, this is the prequel to my 3-shot 'Illuminated Illusions'. Like the original story, this one, too, will be only 3 chapters and it's dedicated to my friend SirenShadow, who, for reason I will never understand, finds 'Illuminated' my best fanfiction-al achievement. xD As a very late birthday present... here we go._**

* * *

Slumbering Shadows

Part 1

It's unheard of.

For so many reasons, and none of them really matter, to be honest.

Sometimes Gin says they are 'almost' lovers, because no one can ever know, and because keeping this relationship of theirs alive takes so much effort and brings so little results… He flips that suggestion as a joke, like they are maybe sharing something special that nobody else can ever have, but secretly, Toushiro hates it when the older captain talks like that. It seems so… belittling somehow, to be reduced to this in-between entertainment that can only be savored behind closed doors and with curtains tightly shut. It's selfish to think that way when they both know there is no other path for them to take, but the boy can't help the way he feels when Ichimaru blows off the candle beside their bed and turns around to wrap an arm around his naked form. They both know Toushiro will be waking up alone the next morning, surrounded by crispy, yet wrinkled sheets, and they both know there might be weeks before they share another night again, but neither dares speak about it, lest it becomes even _more true_ than it already is.

Toushiro clearly remembers three times when they have been on the verge of breaking. Three times that can only be defined in their silence and painted in sad, crumbling blue and forgotten, austere white… Sometimes he wonders if something would've gone different if they had just allowed themselves to be pulled apart, for the world to yank their bleeding, thrashing bodies away from one another, and to leave that deep, leaking crevasse of sorrow in between for time to heal in their absence. It sounds easy when spoken from the current point of view, but deep inside Hitsugaya knows there has never been any other option to pick, any other game to play… They have done _everything_ and _nothing_ altogether and it has broken and rebuilt them many times, only for Fate to prove to them in the end, that there's no escaping the inevitable.

No running against the flow.

_The first time they fight it's about initiation._

The morning finds the captain of the tenth division seated behind his desk and burrowed to the neck in paperwork that his lieutenant has been avoiding with very little grace and subtlety the past few weeks or so. The table is swarmed with ink, documents and brushes, a little more disorderly than usual, a little less meticulous under the young, stern eyes that are fervently trying to devour the whole wooden plain before them. The cautiously puckered lips, fighting between a pout and a nit-picking purse, are charming in their adolescent struggle to compose a mature expression, and the small hands, fussing with the one too many stacks of work and said work's callous wording, seem to move a bit too urgently today, too hurriedly in their zeal to perform a job that is meant for someone so much older and more experienced.

The customary cup of tea remains untouched at the far corner of the bureau, no longer steaming in silent suggestion, no longer striving to tempt its owner to sip from the soothing beverage that the fine porcelain is guarding. A thin smell of leaves and already perishing morning is penetrating through the window in tiny, invisible rivulets, but while at any other time the genius would've paused in his endeavors and regaled in the simple relish of the benevolent nature for a couple of seconds, today he doesn't seem to notice anything outside his own busy bubble, concentrated as he is on jotting down notes and battling with the pressing deadlines that some cruel soul has scribbled at the bottom of the pages. The words and numbers pop one after the other in his brain as he works, trying to synchronize and organize themselves in something at least remotely sensible, yet the task is already proving to be close to impossible, loading his blooming mind with so much more than it needs or is capable of handling. He persists nonetheless… Because this is what Toushiro's always done - struggled with ordeals and tackled problems that even his far older colleagues couldn't cope with, all of this with the sole purpose to make it clear that he _can_. That he is capable of being just as effective, just as responsible, or sometimes… _most times_… twice as skilled in managing a situation as anyone else.

The soft knock on the door doesn't make the captain look up, and neither does the second or the third one that follow up. Finally, the person who's standing on the other side of the threshold decides that their politeness is obviously unappreciated, and slides the obstacle back with ease, stepping into the office regardless of receiving no permission to do so. There's almost no trace of sound as the man moves primly along the parquet, a pair of familiar slit eyes landing with laughable arrogance on the fastidious little prodigy that is still thoroughly fulfilling his duties behind the writing table.

"Yare, yare, Shiro-chan…" the painfully familiar purr disrupts the quietness of the room even with its fleecy soft, slightly teasing nature. "Wherever do ya find all that energy, I wonder? Afta last night, the only thing I wanna do is lie down an'-"

"Is there anything I can help you with, Captain Ichimaru?" Hitsugaya cuts the man off harshly, voice flat as he dips the tip of his brush in the inkwell and proceeds to sign one of the documents with a graceful flourish of his wrist. "As you can see, I happen to be quite busy at the moment."

The boy's words are met with peculiar, somewhat crispy silence, and the weight of the man's surprise, the awkward way in which the usually dynamic and flexible body now stills, is something so rare and abnormal that it can be tasted in the very air. Then the nearly imperceptible rustle of clothes reaches Toushiro's ears, and even without looking up, he can tell the other one's folded his arms in front of his chest and tilted his head to the side in a look that is equal parts curious, taunting and concerned… It's hard to tell what the third division taicho wants in such cases, the guy has always been such a closed book - a misfit that attracts attention just as much as he repulses people – but by now the boy has learned there's no point in even trying to dig into the meaning of this person's expressions and bearing. He'd get everything all wrong anyways…

"Very busy, indeed…" Ichimaru breathes vaguely, obviously speculating over something that an ordinary person would probably do better not to try to discover. Hitsugaya's brows screw into a frown at the comment and oddly enough, he finds himself struggling to suppress a shudder as the soft, nearly soothing voice caresses his ear-shells like an exquisite and downy white feather with just these three small words.

"If there's nothing to share, do you mind closing the door on your way out? It's somewhat noisy outside and it keeps me from focusing on my work." Toushiro forces his tone to remain flat and firm, exactly like the one he'd be using for any other lost soul that dares to interfere with his paperwork schedule, but as painful as it is to admit it - _even_ to himself - Ichimaru is not just _anyone_. He's not your average neighbor, friend or colleague… In fact, he's none of those. He's nothing important, or interesting, or much less _irreplaceable_, because somehow, despite all these years that they have known each other, he still belongs to no reasonable category out of the ones that the boy has pedantically listed inside his mind.

They are nothing to each other, and they never will be… It's that simple. That easy…

_So_… Toushiro thinks it shouldn't be a problem. It can't be hard to behave like this, to steel his voice and keep it robbed of any emotions that could give away just how desperately he wants this awkward encounter to end. Ichimaru might be many things, but he's not stupid. He'll get the hint, and he'll leave, just like he's done with so many other men and women before Hitsugaya. And it'll be over then… It'll be over, forgotten for good, this little mistake he's made... Out of stupidity and out of hope.

Foolish, childish _hope_…

He honestly hates that about himself… The traits of youth, visible not only on the surface, but reaching far beneath, corrupting his anxious mind and seeking heart to tarnish it, too. If he could just uproot those weaknesses of his, pluck them out and free himself from their power… He'd do anything, really… _anything._

"A lil too eager ta get rid o' me?" the fox suggests with a certain hint of teasing, but the undertone that undulates the texture of his voice is miles away from the man's usual manner of speaking.

"Nonsense." The younger captain demurs in a perfect deadpan. "It's just that, unlike you, I don't have so much time on my hands to wander the other divisions in search of ways to pester my fellow captains. I enjoy your company immensely, of course, but I do believe you would do good to engage yourself with someone else. My hands are full at the moment."

"Ya're so cold, Shiro-chaan…" the man downright whines, sashaying his way further inside the room till he's standing right in front of the young prodigy's desk. A pair of hands land on the edge of the nearly ancient piece of furniture, and then Ichimaru is leaning over the piles of paper looming over Hitsugaya's stubbornly lowered head while the little ice-wielder struggles desperately to proceed with his work. He can feel the man's scent - so faint, yet fresh, tangible, _masculine_ – creeping enticingly over his small frame as it caresses his senses with invisible, decadent digits… And the odd, unfamiliar longing crashes down on the boy _hard_, shattering his will and his resolute coldness with power that Toushiro has no chance of repelling no matter how much he struggles or how loudly his mind screams for help... All of a sudden, the memory of Gin's lean body above him, the naked and scarred flesh beneath the child's fingertips, the hard chest, heaving with half-suppressed moans of pleasure, and the palpable delirium that lingers in their mingling breaths – it all swims behind the younger captain's eyes, harsh and vivid, impossible to escape. "Sometimes I think ya jus' enjoy torturin' me. Am I really that unlikable fo' ya? I honestly try _so_ hard."

"Cut the crap, Ichimaru, and get the hell out of my office."

"Ah…" the fox comments indefinitely, his index finger stretching out to nudge at the edge of a document that is lying nearby, and then he adds softly, making the sound of his next words tremble in the air with an emotion that the genius can't quite pinpoint. "I see now… How bad does it hurt? You know, it's perfectly normal to feel a bit sore the next day… But that doesn't give you an excuse to act all bitchy about it."

Toushiro's gaze immediately snaps up, cheeks burning with anger and humiliation as he exhales in indignant disbelief, trying to figure out if he's heard correctly. His small hand fastens around the brush he is armed with, squeezing it _hard_ as he tries to get a hold of his breathing, to keep his temper in check despite the insolence of the man who's currently standing before him. Everything is dancing before his eyes, unsteady and wracked like a quivering illusion that he cannot escape, and he doesn't notice the way the other captain is watching him now, his face grin-less and serious, thin brows knitted together in wonderment that is only verbally expressed in the brief loss of the infamous brogue he's demonstrated a moment ago… The emerald gaze flashes hopelessly, breathlessly, the bones literally crumbling inside his body as the echo of the degrading (albeit truthful) words pulses and thrashes inside his head. The blissful flame of the rage is somewhere there, hidden among the swirls of iridescent emotions, and he scrambles to catch the right colour, to bring out the one feeling that he can allow himself to set free right now, _but_… but it evades him still.

And, God, how he wants to just _scream_… To wrap everything that he's going through in raspy hollers and hopeless anger. He wants to let go, just this once, and make it clear just how hard this is… How much it hurts him to see himself in the situation of the used and disposed entertainment, the _idiot_ who gave in when he should've _fought_, the _virgin_ who succumbed to this red-eyed demon, surrendering to the shallow pleasures of the flesh and sacrificing his dignity for a night of carnal contentment. Isn't the knowledge of what happened enough of a punishment? Does this cruel, heartless excuse of a joke need to stretch any longer, to poison anyone any further, when there is nothing left to aim for, no more games to play, innocence to corrupt, untouched body - _to claim_…? Either Ichimaru doesn't get it, or he doesn't want to understand, for it probably doesn't strike him as anything special to trick, to lie, to deceive… To lure the eyes and the mind of his prey, and then steal its most guarded possession when that victim is at its weakest…

What does anyone's pride mean to this fiend, anyways? Just another notch on the wall, marked absently with the tip of a pocket knife in places where no one would find the nick or question the unwritten name that the man has already engraved in his mind. Because this is all it is, isn't it? A sick little triumph and nothing more.

_Nothing more_…

"How dare you?!" Toushiro grits out, standing up slowly to at least partially lessen the height difference that is so humiliatingly pronounced when he has to face someone as tall and slender as the third division taicho. The boy's fingers are shaking and he drops the brush, closing his hands in tight fists to gain at least a little control over himself. His head, skin, lungs – everything is burning, _hurting_ so bad he has no idea what to do with himself to escape this aching fever. He feels so lost as he speaks now, choking on his own words and making an even more pitiful picture of himself as the futile anger morphs into helpless, childish bitterness, and he slowly begins losing himself... "How dare you stroll into my office, pretend like you've got _any_ right or permission to be here, and then speak to me in such disrespectful manner? Are you not satisfied? Didn't you get what you wanted at the end?" his lips jerk in heart-sore little smile and he continues in a low, shaky voice, trying to keep his body up despite the urge to just collapse and hide from the world, disappear like an insignificant speck, blown away by the wind. "_Congratulations_, you. Won. You were the first to fuck the local brat-genius, time to brag about it now. I bet there're hundreds of people who are just _dying_ to find out exactly how you managed this extraordinary feat. Do not leave them disappointed, it's surely a great story to relate over a drink, especially when the memory is still fresh in your mind, ready to be distributed to all anxious ears and awaiting mouths for the future jolly journey around Sereitei's bored population. Please, I won't mind, go ahead and spread your story, I imagine common decency isn't what's holding you back. You don't appear to be burdened with any such minor flaws, anyways, and I don't see any reasons for you to act as though it's otherwise."

With that said, Toushiro makes a move to sit down again and resume his initial position, but before he can even begin doing so, Ichimaru's hand is around his arm, keeping him in place as slightly cracked red eyes bore down on the boy with shocking intensity.

"Is that what ya really think?" he asks quietly and the boy purses his lips, resisting the urge to jerk violently from the touch. "Do ya honestly consider possible what ya jus' said?"

"What else is there left for me to believe," Toushiro hisses as an overwhelming mix of anger and confusion shoots through his spine like a jolt of sizzling electricity. "When I wake up in four in the morning to an empty bed, no note, and no traces of you whatsoever? This is how you dispose of your one-night whores, isn't it, Ichimaru, how you sneak out in the middle of the night once you're done with them? You really needn't explain anything to me, I got the picture, I _know_ where I stand in your eyes now... I would merely appreciate it if you'd leave me alone to tend to my work."

The boy tries to settle down in his chair again, but the older shinigami doesn't let go, staring without any hint of a smile at the diminutive captain. The pair of thin, usually sneering lips, part ever so slightly, urging some kind of a rebuttal, a _response_ to the accusations, but heavy, suffocating silence is all that fills the confines of the room. No rational excuse seems to come to the man's mind, no badly conceived lie or a reassurance of discretion of any kind. And Toushiro's heart drops at that, barely beating now, as the disappointment flood his veins and leaves him even more aching than before, desperate for this to be over.

"Nothing?" Toushiro mutters, features softening as a small, sad smile tugs the corners pf his mouth. "Well, that's a first."

"Ya dun kno' what it is like." Ichimaru whispers suddenly, squeezing the boy's arm a bit too tightly as he leans over the desk, closer to the boy. "Ya dun get it. I had no choice."

"No choice?" Toushiro repeats incredulously, one eyebrow jerking up in a pessimistic arch as he shakes his head and adds spitefully. "_Well_, I'm so sorry to hear that. I suppose my immature mind cannot comprehend how difficult it must be to remain in the same bed all night long."

"It's hard enough for me as it is, can't ya at least _try_ ta not make it any harder?"

"And what exactly _am_ I doing?" Toushiro chokes out in a broken whisper, shaking his head as the disbelief fills up his sore, tight throat. "You're the one who invaded my office despite my reluctance to meet you, let alone talk about last night. Truthfully, I'd rather you just didn't speak to me again, I've got enough on my mind and I don't need a recurrent reminder of the mistake I made out of utter and unforgivable stupidity."

"_Don't_ say that!" Ichimaru hisses, grabbing both of the child's upper arms and shaking them with urgency that makes the tenth captain's eyes snap wide open. "Do ya honestly not see why I came 'ere?"

Toushiro can't respond. Gaze nude and uncertain, he absently lifts hands to cover Ichimaru's wrists, either planning to try and pray the harsh fingers off of himself, or – what? – he isn't sure. It's only now that he realizes just how close their faces are, and the desk that separates them – hard and unyielding – is practically nothing to the taller man's height and range, the length of those lean limbs making up so well for the general smallness of the white-haired genius. A familiar, crushing weakness crawls insidiously up his backbone, splintering his will bit by bit and he finds himself hating and loving this sensation with every fiber of his being. It hurts worse than anything he's ever felt, but it's also the most powerful and the most amazing thing he has ever experienced… Their bodies, their mouths and minds attract like magnets, and from this distance the effect is even stronger. How can he ever resist this? How can he fight it when this man's presence is inside, outside, everywhere around him, in everything he does, every molecule of air he swallows… Toushiro can almost taste the third captain's breath on his lips, the warmth of the succulent, avid tongue and the delicious pressure of the man's mouth on his own. The air between them crackles as though set on fire, and Hitsugaya's eyelids lower in some kind of defeat, incandescent need already coursing through his skin as he allows himself to turn pliant, defeated in the other one's hold.

And then Ichimaru leans forward, ready to swipe the younger boy off his feet, and bright red lights go off in Toushiro's mind, making him tense. _No, no, nononono, this can't happen __**again**__…! _ The sound of skin meeting skin resonates loud and clear in the air, and the contact is instantly lost as Gin stumbles backward, clutching his right cheek with his palm. Hitsugaya lets out a breath he hasn't realized he's been holding and glances in shock at his own throbbing hand, instinctively pulling it to his chest as he steps back from the desk, almost afraid of what the result of his actions will be for him. The distant gleam of worry managing to flicker in his orbs as he continues staring at the man before him, expecting the explosion, the catastrophe to unravel, but much to his surprise, the silver-haired man just huffs, surprisingly composed regardless of the stinging slap he's just suffered.

"I s'pose…" Ichimaru mutters finally, grin spreading across his lips as he slowly removes his fingers from his burning face and glances at the younger shinigami. "I s'pose I deserved that…"

Toushiro lets out a shaky breath, stepping back again, uncertain. But before he can say or do anything to either apologize or accuse Gin of anything, the man is standing right in front of him, no longer hindered by any obstacles that could prevent him from fully embracing the smaller male. Hitsugaya doesn't have the time to struggle as a pair of arms wrap around his thin waist and he's crushed against the taller body, the protests vanishing from his mind as the other captain bends to bury his nose in the crown of white hair, inhaling the radiant scent of purity and winter as though it's the most precious pleasure in the world.

"Ya're right." Ichimaru whispers with surprising meekness, clutching the tiny figure closer to his own, like he's afraid to let go, to break apart from the brief mirage of safety that he's created around the two of them. "Ya're right… I should've been there fo' ya, ta hold ya in the mornin', ta make it all okay… An' I'm sorry, because I kno' ya deserve betta, ya deserve _so much more_ than this. But I can't help mahself, this is all I can offer ya – kisses in the shadows an' promises fo' somethin' else when the time comes… If ya won't have me, that's alright, I'll go… But, I won't say a word ta anyone, I'd neva' do somethin' like that, eva'…" Long, slender fingers comb through Toushiro's hair and he hears the man sigh against his hair as he adds quietly. "I wouldn' share what we had with anyone, because this is the one thing that is only mine ta cherish. _Mine_. Nobody can have it-… Nobody can take you away from me…"

And as the final word rolls of Gin's tongue, the boy realizes that he can no longer fight this. His body slumps against the other shinigami's one, and he reaches to grasp the sides of the man's robes, balling the fabric between his fingers as he shakes all over, reveling in the memory of what he has just heard. His eyes are stinging, beginning to shed the tears he's been struggling to hold back all day long, but he never lets them go as his head is tilted back and a warm, gentle mouth claims his own.

* * *

**_A/N: I don't expect much from this story, but I'd appreciate reviews nonetheless. :) I hope it lived up to your expectations._**


	2. Chapter 2

**_A/N: Mostly, I just want to say that I'm back._**

**_I hope you're happy, Cozy, cuz this is my love, right here.  
_**

* * *

Slumbering Shadows

Part 2

_The second time they fight it's about loyalty…_

Sometimes 'I love you' sounds so sweet, so real coming from Ichimaru's mouth.

But sometimes it seems so empty. Words, thrown in a pile among so many, meaningless other, hurled aside without weight, without reason…

Toushiro hears the confession over and over and over again as Gin thrusts into him, rocking him mercilessly across the mattress, and in the frenzy of their frantic love-making, the boy can barely manage to whisper the words back in a stutter. It's damn difficult to talk when he's being violated like this, bent over on all fours with one hand gripping the headboard with all might while Ichimaru rams mercilessly into him from behind, hitting his sweet spot dead on each time, _no_ exceptions. The taller captain seems to be determined to drive the genius crazy tonight, pushing deep and hard into the tight body and yet withdrawing _slowly_, with torturous pauses in between the movements that are meant to let the younger male feel - with the every cell in his being – the sweet pain of the union.

"I-I-… I _can't_!"

Ichimaru's hand finds Toushiro's hair and he tangles its fingers among the messy and sweat-dewed white locks, yanking them back as he leans over the smaller body to get to the younger captain's ear.

"_Hold_ it!" the man hisses with a mix of sadism and watery, helpless need. "Fo' me, I wanna cum together."

Toushiro sobs out a messy promise to try, hand clinging even harder to the headboard as he tries to overcome the unbearable tension between his legs. It's goddamn impossible, especially when Gin lets go of the snowy hair and runs his hands down the boy's sides, pulling on the erect little nipples and squeezing and kneading the smaller shinigami's ass cheeks. After so many months, Hitsugaya thinks it's rather strange that the taller captain – the person, known for his changeable tastes and nature - still never seems to grow bored, never seems less vehement about what they are doing. If anything, as the time passes by, Gin's desire appears to turn even more insatiable, the desperation and devotion of every act leaving the boy torn between a breathless bliss and a certain, dull kind of worry that sometimes drives him to quiet tears once his lover leaves. He hates it that the silver-haired taicho is always so secretive – refusing to share even his smallest concerns and leaving the genius to unknot endless puzzles in his head when they are separated. All these walls between them – verbal, physical, imaginary – they make Toushiro feel cheap, like a whore who is worth just as much as the next one-night stand. And what is worse, he's sure his lover isn't doing it on purpose; this is just Ichimaru's strange way to show he cares, to make sure that the young ice wielder doesn't worry, doesn't waste nerves and time over problems that are only Gin's to solve…

What the man obviously doesn't realize, is that instead of protecting the one he cares about, he is driving that person up the wall with frustration.

"I'm-"

"Shhh, me, too…"

Tonight, unlike many other nights, the thick, solid fabric of the world of the living is enveloping their bodies, heating up the experience and transforming it in something so much more real and easy to believe in. Several weeks ago Toushiro was sent on a regular mission in Karakura with both the task to broaden his horizon and rest from the mundane repetitiveness of the endless piles of paperwork that continue conquering his desk on a daily basis. He met the order with mixed feelings: half of him desperately needed this peculiar type of rest, while his other half was a bit uneasy to leave Ichimaru on his own. He had learned from experience that no matter what people said or how well the 3rd captain covered himself up when the circumstances required him to play fair, he was and always would be a trickster… Without Hitsugaya's occasional efforts to keep the man in line, without the secretly muttered reprimands, the diligent guidance that the boy bestowed upon his lover similarly to an attentive mother hen, and (of course) without the regular bed exercises to ease the stress that came with being of such high rank, there was no saying what the older man could resort to.

Mass destruction seemed rather likely even when the fox promised to behave shortly before the genius' departure.

But that is another topic entirely…

When Toushiro opened the front door a couple of hours ago with the expectation to see the mailman or some idiot advertiser (the population of those specimens seemed to be expanding at a frightening rate these days), he was more than a little surprised to come face to face with a rather edgy-looking Ichimaru. He didn't even have the time to ask if there was something wrong before the man was attacking his mouth, kissing him senseless all the way to the nearest flat surface, where they spent the next forty minutes wiping out the damage of the recent sex-deprivation. By the time they were done with round one, the boy had forgotten who he was, what he had been planning to do and what he had been meaning to ask, completely smitten by how deliciously wrong this little rendezvous felt…

Now that he is lying spent on the queen-sized bed of the apartment he's hired, whiling away the time he'd usually spent patrolling the streets or working on his report, Hitsugaya can't get rid of the little mite of anxiety that gnaws at his insides. His head is resting on his lover's chest and he's draped his arm across Ichimaru's middle, enjoying the lazy closeness that he can so rarely revel in, and yet the magic of the moment feels a bit forced, like an overly sweet dessert, an affectation that any side viewer could see through.

It is funny how he can always tell – even when he isn't sure about the exact reason or cause of the problem – that there's something bothering Gin. The silver-haired captain would never admit it – let alone to Toushiro of all people – but after all this time, it comes rather naturally for the genius to sense these mood changes that always come surreptitiously, quavering implicitly on the horizon like dying stars. In fact, the boy decides as the euphoric smile slowly drips from his face, there's nothing wrong with being worried about the person you've supposedly fallen for. It's about time Ichimaru learns that… Fine, their relationship has to remain a secret, Hitsugaya has long ago accepted that, but do there _have_ to be secrets _between_ them?

"Ya're usually asleep by now…" Gin murmurs, left arm folded under his head indolently while his right hand toys with a strand of the smaller male's hair. "'s something the matter?"

Toushiro doesn't answer immediately, lidded gaze glued blankly on some distant spot that only he can see, and then he twists his eyes up to the man's face and swallows apprehensively.

"I ought to be asking you the same question."

"Should I be happy ya ain't?" the man jokes softly, arching an amused brow as he twirls a white lock between his fingers. Hitsugaya frowns, however, unamused.

"Not for long, I'm afraid," the boy admits in a tone that is equal parts soft and demandingly edgy – a combination that elicits a low, amused rumble from the broad chest that is calmly falling and rising underneath the genius' head.

"Dun be so worried," Ichimaru flips back a bit too casually to sound entirely honest. "I'll be leavin' soon, so le's not spoil the moment, shall we?"

It takes Toushiro a very, _very_ long second to understand exactly what the man is telling him, but when he finally does, the realization zaps through him like a surge of electricity and he rips himself from his lover's arms as tough the contact of his own skin with Ichimaru's has been blazing hot, impossible to bear.

"_What_?" the boy hisses, sitting up abruptly and turning halfway to look at his partner. "What are you telling me?"

"Calm down now," Gin purrs soothingly, making an attempt to pull the boy back into his embrace, only to fail quite miserably when the genius jerks back with an indignant hiss. "Dun go makin' a big deal out of it, we've jus'-"

"What do you mean you'll be leaving soon?" Toushiro pressures again, slightly widened jade staring guardedly at his lover as he tries to keep his voice as steady as possible. "Are you going back to Sereitei? Do you have some kind of an arrangement?"

Gin lets out a low sigh and props himself on his elbows, one brow arching wearily as though he's wondering how to deal with an overly emotional child. Hitsugaya's chest tightens unpleasantly at the idea and he clenches his jaw, resisting the urge to avert his gaze and hide the tendrils of shame that always have their way to sprout whenever uncertainty blossoms too powerfully to be quenched with resolution alone. Fist slowly tightening around a handful of sheets, the boy inhales deeply though his mouth before whispering with as much persistency as he can muster without sounding hysterical:

"Are you-…. Are you meeting up with somebody?"

Ichimaru gives up a low theatrical groan, letting his head roll back in a way that actually makes the boy think for a minute that he's made a wrong, foolish accusation. Before he can open his mouth and apologize for the assumption, however, the older captain is speaking again, voice just the slightest bit thinner than before.

"It's only a breakfast… It doesn' mean anythin', ya kno' that, I just need somethin' ta keep up appearances."

Toushiro's heart drops in his stomach at that, lips parting with a shocked exhale as he slowly, slowly shakes his head from side to side as though he is expecting the mirage of what he's just heard to splinter inside his mind and disappear. The confession, extracted with such offensive ease from the infamous fox's tongue, stings a thousand times harder than anything that he would've wheeled out after hours, days, weeks of interrogations. The boy tries to get it through his head, to make some sense of the attitude his lover is displaying, but it's _damn_ hard, and all that he can think of is just how _stupid_ he has been to assume the older man wasn't entertaining himself in his absence.

_Really, Toushiro… what were you thinking?_

He can never, ever be enough for someone like Ichimaru, he realizes bitterly, and although the words push against his ribs, urging to get out and shatter someone else's heart, he can't find the courage to address the issue directly…

"Of course…" he susurrates wanly instead, half an attempt to just fill up the silence. "What are we without our reputation?"

A hint of hope sparkles beneath the hood of the slit eyes and Ichimaru straightens up, hands lifting ever so slight – maybe even unwillingly so – towards the smaller male.

"Dun think bout it, ok? 's jus' the way it is, pet…" he purrs silkily, tilting his head to the side to catch his lover's eyes in his own narrow ones. "I can't risk them findin' out I've been 'ere, an' spendin' the mornin' with some girl will simply confirm the fact that I haven' changed; that I _can't_ change. 's fo' the best, trust me, we can't attract attention ta ourselves right now..."

Toushiro's gaze snaps up at that, a wave of heat washing over him at the new angle that his lover is trying to take. _Just the way it is?_ Is he supposed to accept what his 'lover' is doing, is he supposed to be happy, satisfied, apathetic? Doesn't Gin _know_ him? Doesn't he understand how much it _hurts_?

"Pet-" the man begins, obviously having caught up with the harsh drop of the temperature that the strands of his lover's spiritual pressure are causing. Before he can get to the boy, though, Toushiro has slunk out of the bed, hands clutching the thin summer blanket to his small chest as the younger shinigami stares with something akin to incredulity at the person before him.

"_You_ can't risk being discovered?" the boy grits out in disbelief, secretly praying to all deities that are willing to listen that Gin would take everything he's said back, laugh out about the stupid joke and kiss the genius till both their brains have turned to mush. "Is this a one-sided relationship? Don't I get a say in any of it?"

The persistent questions don't seem to have any actual effect on Ichimaru, who merely sighs, a fleeting look of irritation flashing across his pale face as he chases the grin from his lips and drapes an arm over his raised knee. The lack of seriousness in the man's general demeanor make Toushiro's fingers squeeze tighter the meager piece of fabric he's using to cover himself up and he swallows, feeling tiny, young, pathetic... Somehow, without even trying, without even _wanting_ it, Gin always manages to make him lose that special air of authority that the boy has been clinging to with such sincere desperation all his life. It's a scary sensation really – like being stripped stark naked in front of somebody and then ogled from head to toe similarly to a mangy piece of commodity – but it's a power the fox has over him that Hitsugaya has come to terms with a long time ago… _He_ would always be the kid out of the two; ever the weaker, naïve, _inexperienced_ figure, the one who doesn't have what it takes to be shown the full picture. He can lie to himself all he wants, but in the end of the day, he'll be the fool to be left out. He would be the person with nothing but shallow hopes to cling to.

"I knew ya'd overreact…" the fox mutters lowly, running a hand over his face with unhidden agitation and for some reason the gesture makes the smaller male feel as though he's just been slapped across the face. "Toushiro, I swear to God, sometimes ya're so damn _difficult_… Do ya _have _to question everythin' I do?"

"When it comes to things like that," the boy manages in a choke, "when you claim you love me and you want this to work… You owe me at least his courtesy, don't you think?"

Ichimaru gives up a small snicker at that proclamation, gaze lowering as he shakes his head in a slightly condescending, slightly caustic manner. For a few minutes it almost seems as though they aren't even in the same room – like Gin is maybe floating somewhere, miles away from the forsaken place; like he's just physically here, yet emotionally gone… The hollowness that suddenly replaces the usually playful grin and the obnoxious, immature behavior of professional con artist, is just a cold, bitter shell. A puppet. No passion. No desires. No ambition. Only an oyster that exist with the sole reason of causing damage:

"What I _think_," the man begins quietly, voice rumpled with the reflux of some sick and inhuman amusement. "Is that you should be grateful that I bothered to come all the way down here instead of staying home and possibly spending the night with someone who wouldn't shove their nose in every single thing that I do."

Perhaps he has never been hit hard enough or perhaps he's never bled to the point of near death to make the comparison, but it feels oddly fitting to say that the harshness of those words lances right through his heart harder and deeper than any blade could ever go. With the precision of a surgeon whose mission is to cut one's organs out while the victim is still alive and breathing, the statement diligently pierces through skin, bone and muscle and extracts the very essence of the genius' existence right through his thrashing, yet irreversibly dying body.

_Grateful that you **bothered!**?_

Toushiro can't even find it in himself to protest as the steady, merciless weight of the tears clogs his throat and fills up his eyes, knuckles turning white around the blanket that he is now pulling up with the shame of a virgin who knows his performance has been a terrible disappointment. His brows draw together in an expression of nearly childish vulnerability and he miserably tries to pull himself together, to retrieve from its obscure box the cold, calculating nature of the man he's supposed to be, the _role_ he's been playing so well until Ichimaru came along… The result is the same as trying to capture air with your bare hands. The ethereal substance he's struggling to seize is just as close as it is impossible to imprison, and other than shaking him even more, the efforts succeed in doing nothing.

_Why, Gin..? _

_Why do you have to make me believe that you really mean all this?_

_Does it really please you that much that you can break me in the snap of a finger, do with me as you like and then abandon the pieces, knowing full well that you can always come back to crush me some more?_

_Yes_, he's let it happen again, he's lost his balance and bared a crumb of weakness for Ichimaru's predatory eyes to see, and the result has been instant; the cruelty – thorough, like the solution of a complex mathematical problem that needed precision just as much as it needed a genius to figure out the method… Suddenly, Toushiro can feel nothing but mind-shattering embarrassment for even picking up this subject, for exposing himself in such stupid way when he knew what would follow and how deeply it would affect him… When the taller captain gets up from the bed, a slow albeit certain expression of regret twisting his features, the boy instinctively stumbles backwards, away from the man's touch and the power of hidden orbs that could injure him to the point of incorrigibility.

"Pet…" Ichimaru whispers, remorse clearly visible underneath the even tone. "Toushiro, I didn't-"

The boy's shoulders hitch painfully and his gaze slips to the floor, unable to bear the sight of the man in front of him. Apologies. Always these stupid, belated apologies that feel like a clumsy smudge of white paint across an already blemished canvas. Useless, useless attempts... The damage has been done – they can pretend for another day or week or month that it's all fine, that they've made up and moved on, but the truth is much uglier… Much harder to swallow.

_Apologies_…

As always, other than aggravating the hole that's suddenly drilled right through his chest, the fox's words do nothing to fix him, nothing to make him feel better. Maybe he really is a burden, Toushiro wonders miserably, a hinder and a problem, and a very rare, very boring past time for when there's no one else to fill up the void. In that case, truthfully, what _is_ Gin doing here? What was the purpose of this visit if it cost the man so much efforts and troubles?

_Honestly, why did you even bother…?_

_I didn't ask._

_I didn't want you to do anything._

_Really, Gin… Did you simply need to hurt me again?_

"Please, dun shut me out, pet, I jus-"

_You just what? _Toushiro nearly laughs out at the idea that Ichimaru probably doesn't even know how to finish that sentence. How could he? Affection is such a foreign notion to those who only understand the concepts of destruction. And Gin's always been the destructive type. Always the one to break, even the few things that make him happy…

"_No_…" the younger male whispers with effort. "No, it's fine. It's fine. I-I understand-… Gods, you don't have to explain."

Gin doesn't seem to get the hint though, as he doesn't back off the way Toushiro expect him to do, quite persistently approaching the smaller male, trying to find, to _hold_ that one thing that he hopes will fix his mistake. Yet with every movement that the man is making towards his small lover, the boy's pulling back, keeping the distance between them relatively large as if the mere idea of contact is incomprehensible at the moment, _frightening_. Hitsugaya's back hits the bathroom door behind him and he blindly reaches for the handle, struggling to get out, to put some distance between himself and the older captain...

_Please, just go away…_

Toushiro can't breathe like this. He can't think. His chest is tightening and heaving in spasms, punishing him for trying to keep the corroding agony inside his fragile body instead of letting it out, and he knows he won't be able to hold himself up for much longer…

One of them _needs_ to leave.

"Pet… Pet, please, look at me, dun do this," the man utters pleadingly. "I wasn' thinkin', I didn' mean it. You know there's never been anyone else!"

Hitsugaya shakes his head mutely, biting his lower lip harshly to try and keep it from quivering under the flood of the unfettered emotions. His hand is fighting to get the door behind him to open and give him an escape passage, but even such simple task is out of the question when his head is a mess and his heart is a pathetic, battered semblance of what it has represented before Gin took ownership of it.

"I, um," Toushiro's voice breaks and he shakes his head, eyes squeezing shut to block out the outside world and every physical and mental castigation that comes with it. "I need to have a shower. I'll- Maybe you should go. That's what you want, isn't it? I don't have the right to keep you here, so just- "

"Stop, _stop_ talkin' like that. I'm not goin' anywhere." Ichimaru insists fervently but when he makes another step towards the boy, the door clicks open and Toushiro stumbles insides the bathroom, desperately pulling the blanket along despite the fact that he won't be needing it.

"It's not a problem, really, I don't mind. You don't need to worry about me," the boy forces out awkwardly, completely ignoring the devastated look that the man is giving him. "It was very nice seeing you. Thank you. For making time for this visit."

The door slams loudly like the giant gate of a sieged palace, and Hitsugaya can't help the harsh breath of air that bursts from his lips when he's finally alone. Gin won't try to get inside, he's sure of it, for no matter if he can or can't, the man knows not to enter if Toushiro's put a wall between them. Whether Ichimaru will wait or return home – that's another deal entirely – for now the boy just needs his seclusion.

Careful not to trip in the blanket that he's still refusing to let go of, the shinigami approaches the shower and twists the tap handles till the water is cascading down to the tiled floor at the highest speed possible. The song of the hundreds of falling water-drops is drowning any sound that could leave the bathroom, creating a small bubble of isolation that gives the boy the feeling that maybe he's actually won himself some privacy... _Privacy… _Such a rare luxury nowadays, especially for someone like him, who has climbed so far so fast, and yet remained alone, regardless of the occasional interest that his colleagues or subordinates had expressed towards him…

Funny how the prospects of going out with someone have hardly thrilled him. Not just now – before, too, there had never seemed to be any allure in starting up a relationship. A part of him figured it was precisely because of his reluctance to seek normal human contact that out of all the potential choices, out of all the decent people he could allow into his life, it had to be Gin – _Gin_, with all his flaws, stupid immature behavior, licentious leers and wandering hands – to swipe him off his feet and take up the role of the most fucked up prince charming that could ever exist. Indeed, it had started with just a few tasteless jokes, chucked absently in the hallways when no one was around to interfere, and those teasing words - meant to amuse and yet evoke reaction from the incredibly young captain that the whole of Sereitei was talking about – had initially lead to nothing but frustration for the object of the verbal abuse. And then? Then, as the time went by, Ichimaru would show up on the grounds of the 10th division more and more often, sauntering aimlessly like a stray (but very evil) cat, to eventually 'accidentally' run into Toushiro…

…_Or_, even more accidentally, find himself in the boy's office with a whole list of idiotic topics to try and discuss with the newly-fledges prodigy.

There was always some kind of a stupid excuse. Something to justify why Gin was, _once again_, slacking off from work to pester the living daylights out of Hitsugaya, but ultimately those episodes became less annoying and easier to handle if treated with the right kind of attitude… Without the blinding wall of anger standing menacingly between them, the diminutive shinigami suddenly realized that not only was Ichimaru smart, but also quite interesting to be around. He had a way to slide along the surface of every problem, avoiding rifts and slants with the ease of a forest spirit who could never be touched or harmed by such prosaic hinders as human hatred, jealousy or malice.

When Gin had first started acting as though he wanted something more from Toushiro, the boy hadn't believed it was possible. He had ignored or snapped at the suggestive glances, diminishing the meaning of the delicate brushes of those long fingers across the back of his neck, growling at the caresses along his forearm and pushing off the palms that tried to sneak up his knee… Truth is, Toushiro never really stood a chance against the tender attack of his colleague captain. Diligently and patiently, Ichimaru had crawled his way deep under the thick skin of the prudish young prodigy, and without so much as a sly grin, he had shamelessly wrung out from his prey the first true, heart-felt emotion that the kid had ever experienced towards anyone but his small family. He had been both cruel and gentle in his aim, knowing full well that he couldn't win by picking only one of those strategies, but in the end – in spite of all that stood in his way – he had hit the very bottom of the treasure chest that he had been trying to unlock, and miraculously, he had brought out the _boy_ where all this time Toushiro had been trying to erect the armour of a man…

_How could I-… How could I never see it coming_…?

Toushiro's eyes slide shut in defeat as he realizes the simplicity of the answer and the extents of his own naivety: he had never really wanted to see. He had never wanted it to stop.

For the first time in his life the boy had felt like someone worth fighting for, a person with enough qualities to be appreciated, wanted, _needed_, and no matter how selfish or foolish it had been to act this way, he had simply refused to give up on the feeling that only Gin was brave enough to give him. And slowly, slowly, he had sank deeper into the quicksand of the forbidden affair – at first just mentally, and then, when the time came, physically, too.

Afterwards…

Afterwards salvation was no longer an option.

As he peels away the uninvited memories from his consciousness, Hitsugaya realizes with more than just a little bitterness that there's never going to be anyone quite like Ichimaru again … Underneath his careless mask, the tall, smiling creep that so many despise is a whole ocean of right and wrong, blunt and deceiving, harsh and tender... Gin is special, one of a kind…

In a way-… In a way, he's Toushiro's one broken, poisoned dream …

With a sigh, the boy approaches the toilet and lowers the lid. He can feel the warm, cotton embrace of the steam enveloping him like a curtain and the white softness feels almost soothing against his cold skin; a medicine that he's needed all along. As he sits down, wrapped snugly in the cocoon of the thin blanket, a long, powerful shudder strings the arch of his spine, making everything blur before his eyes similarly to a landscape that's being contemplated through a smudged glass.

He takes a deep breath.

Once.

_**You should be grateful that I bothered to come all the way down here… Tell me, who do you think would ever look at you once I get fed up and leave?**_

Twice…

_**Who would want an inexperienced, frigid brat like that in their bed? Who would respect a mere child as a superior, a joke of a shinigami who somehow managed to get to this position?**_

_Thrice…_

_**Ah, but you already know the truth… You will keep trying, harder and harder, you will bleed and bent over the weight of your own efforts to prove your own worth, but you will fail still, you **will** fail.**_

_Breathe, Toushiro… This isn't real…_

_**Because, simply, you could never be anything more than a conquest; you could never exceed the definition of a person whose lover needs to run to others to get what he needs…**_

_Stop… Stop doing this to yourself, it hurts so much…_

_**Toushiro.**_

_Please… Please, don't…_

_**You're just not good enough…**_

And before he can truly try to keep himself together, to put the greatness of the reason above the unsteady ripples of the soul, Toushiro breaks into hot, heavy tears with passion that seems to shatter him to smithereens, robbing him of everything that he's got with one single explosion that starts in the very core of his aching body. He screws his eyes shut and his lungs clench, making him bent forward as the first sound – something between a sob and a scream – rips from his lips and sinks in the throat of the heavy mist that is cradling him. Hands clutching the blanket to his chest the way an infant clings to the last thing that feels warm and familiar, he lets himself go, boundaries and limits already broken by the talons of the man who's held him close and secure less than an hour ago. _How could you? How could you do this to me, I love you!_

He cries honestly and openly, letting the wetness tumble down his cheeks in mute sacrifice to whoever would have mercy over his destroyed heart. The pain is endless. So much that has been bottled up for years now – disappointment and sadness and more… _More_ that Ichimaru has brought, _more_ that Ichimaru has created for him and him alone to suffer day after day… The boy isn't even sure what it is, whether it is betrayal, anger, humiliation or all of the above that is crushing him in such way, but in one thing he's positive: he's never felt anything like it before. Never has he craved to hate anyone the way he's wishing for it now, never has he prayed so hard to be released from the toxic hold of another man; never has he wept with such desperation or abandon as he is doing at this very second…

And it's just too _fucking_ much…

His chipped heart is trilling with the aches of so many scars and wounds, so many compromises and consents that he's done in the name of this idiotic relationship – and yet every time it's the same. The moment he thinks he has grown immune to Ichimaru's mind games, another injury is inflicted. And he bleeds just a little bit more. Dying slowly from an illness that has no cure.

At the end Toushiro does take that shower, punching the wall weakly as the too-hot water chars his pale skin while the clean drops wash away the brine that keeps leaking weakly from the edges of his sore eyes. He sobs very quietly now, _defeated_, for somewhere deep inside he knows there's nothing he can do but suffer on his own, hidden from peeking eyes along with the lusterless particle of pride he's still clinging to. He feel pathetic, really, and so lost he would rather just collapse somewhere and wait for the world to wipe him out completely.

But he can't.

That ancient power that drives him, the mind and soul of the dragon that's slumbering in the very fabric of his existence – this legacy he cannot ignore, and he cannot let go of his life, no matter how wonderful and tempting the thought is. Gin is the only man he could ever love – he's the doomed and forbidden apple he would always reach out to pluck, he's the venomous drug in the boy's wine, the sweetest perdition he could ever hope for… But he could never really have someone like that – someone so erratic, wayward, hungry for more, like a natural calamity that can never be stopped or predicted – what was he even thinking? How could he ever hope that he could be the only one? The only person Ichimaru would ever need?

Such a foolish boy. Such a stupid child…

Toushiro, don't you know who you're talking about?

Don't you know who you are? What you can offer?

_Goddamit…_

His fingers curl in his wet hair as he chokes back on a new flood of tears.

_What could I ever give you?_

Nothing. Nothing, nothing, _nothing_…

* * *

It's only when he feels he's got back the control over himself that Toushiro leaves the bathroom with a towel wrapped around his waist and the blanket crumpled in large ball under his arm. He opens the door carefully, expecting to see emptiness and coldness where his lover has been not so long ago, but to his surprise, he finds Ichimaru sitting on the edge of their messy bed, clad in a pair of loose grey sweatpants and with elbows propped on his knees. The man's fingers are buried in his silver tresses as though in an attempt to pierce his skull and extract the answer to the question that's obviously been tormenting him, but the moment he hears the boy enter, he pulls his hands out of his hair and looks up, grin-less face staring with a mix of hope and desperation in the smaller shinigami's direction.

The boy's muscles visibly tighten under that gaze.

"Pet," Gin mutters quietly, afraid maybe that if he tries to speak louder, he would break the last thread that seems to connect them. "Please, talk to me."

The words feel like the caress of a downy feather across Toushiro's face, lips and body, and yet the tenderness doesn't reach far enough, doesn't touch the sore spot deep inside the young captain's chest, the attempt for amendments merely thickening the shield that the child prodigy has erected around himself. Tossing the crumpled blanket to the bed, Hitsugaya walks to the cupboard in the corner of the room just opposite Ichimaru, and pulls the first drawer open, grateful that in this position his back is facing the man.

"There's nothing to talk about," he utters softly, his features hard like marble despite the agonizing throb in his broken heart. "You were supposed to go."

"I wouldn' leave ya like this," comes the careful whisper, but beneath the well-varnished surfaces of that statement, Toushiro can taste the guilt of hundreds and hundreds such previous cases when the boy has woken up abandoned on the bed among the scattered remnants of a pledge that was never meant to see the light of the new day. Toushiro knows the man means his words when he says them, he knows that Ichimaru honestly wants to do the things he states he would do and fix his mistakes… it's just that there's always, _always_ something that prevents him from keeping his promises. A part of it is probably Hitsugaya's own fault – for being so gullible and then so forgiving, just because Gin has touched him just right or told him the exact thing he needed to hear – but either way, this time he refuses to be the fool, he can't take this game anymore or force his chipped figures into another impossible maneuver.

So to the gentle declaration that the man is using to comfort him, he merely shakes his head, pulling out a pair of boxers and a clean old T-shirt and giving them a critical once-over.

"I highly doubt it," he declares finally. "It's never stopped you before."

"This is different…" the man objects and Toushiro can feel him getting up, sliding like a snake between the many layers of air that divide them. "Ya're makin' all the wrong assumptions."

Hitsugaya doesn't answer, simply bending down to slip his underwear up his legs beneath the modestly arranged towel that his still hanging around his waist.

Modesty.

It used to amuse Gin so much once upon a time, to know that the tenth captain actually believed he could hide his youth and fragility if he dresses thickly enough, if he put on a mask of severity and coldness and stuck to that image till he, himself, started believing it was real. Now the need to protect his body from prying eyes and from mocking stares has become not only a habit, but a necessity. The more time passes and the longer Toushiro remains in his position as a captain, the harder it is to preserve a clean reputation… And although behind closed doors Gin would always treat these precautions with a sneer, the boy knows that this is the only way for him to survive.

And right now…

…right now Ichimaru is one of _them_. Not his friend, or his colleague, not even the person who swore to love him no more than an hour and a half ago. _No_. Gin's motives have proven to be just as selfish and just as cruel as everybody else's.

"Toushiro," the voice is close now, suffocating close and the boy grows cold and rigid, uncertain whether to respond or simply ignore the taller man... "Ya should kno' by now… Ya should kno' that ya're mah only one, that no matter what happens, ya always _will_ be."

The boy just huffs, glancing at Ichimaru with the corner of his narrowed eye as he discards the towel and slips on the simple white T-shirt.

"Because you've given me so much proof, of course," he counters sarcastically, enjoying the merciless bite in his own words similarly to a sick man who only wants others to suffer half as much as he is. "That's right – I'll probably never get the amount of gentleness, care or _loyalty_ you gave me from anyone else… Should I be _grateful_ for that, too? Should I maybe lick your feet or suck your cock before you go as a farewell thanks for all the things you've done for me?" swallowing back the lump that is gradually accumulating in his throat, Toushiro decides to end the tirade there, worried as he is that instead of making a point, he'll just end up crying again if he keeps talking. When he turns around to face the man, though, now half-dressed and feeling the slightest bit less exposed, he all but jumps back with a hiss when Ichimaru tries to grab his arm and possibly bring them closer.

"Pet…" Gin begins as soothingly as his racing pulse would allow him, taking a precautious step towards his small lover. "Pet, could ya please jus' lemme- Jus'-"

"Don't." Hitsugaya chokes out, backbone growing stiff as iron as he contemplates the person before him with distrust and a barely visible hint of fear. "Don't touch me."

"I won't hurt ya…"

"Only if I want it, right?" Toushiro forces out in a brittle, strangled voice. "Is that what you say to all your whores when you mess up or say the wrong name while you fuck them?"

He watches as the man's face changes, features twisting with a certain trace of disbelief, only for the previously distressed expression to fade to something darker, harder to decipher. Within the blink of an eye, Toushiro's pressed between the cupboard and Ichimaru's tall body, eyes wide and slightly anxious as the older captain hovers over him possessively, gazing down at the boy's apprehensively parted lips in a way that somehow reminds the genius of a trapped, injured tiger that is attempting to tackle the only other animal in the cage. _Why did you have to stay and make things even worse? _Hitsugaya makes a move to try and shove the other shinigami off of him, but the man simply pushes the offending hands aside, cradling gently the child's cheeks in his own palms and staring intently at the pair of turquoise orbs as though they are the only light, the only _beacon_ he can see in the impetuous storm that is ruffling the waves of his own mind-ocean.

"Why do ya always have ta doubt the way I feel bout ya?" Ichmaru whispers with an odd kind of dejection, a touch of sadness quirking the side of his mouth in a grin that most would certainly misread. "Ya can see through me betta than anyone else, an' yet when it comes ta the most important things, ya jus' can't believe yer eyes, can ya?"

"Lies," Hitsugaya accuses quietly, clenching his jaw and trying to turn his face away, to refuse his lover even this one simple contact. "All lies. They don't even get any better."

"Does it feel like lies when I kiss you?" Gin mutters forlornly. "When I hold you? When I make love to you?"

"It feels like lies _all_ the time," Toushiro grits out with fervent hostility, but to his amazement, Ichimaru just chuckles softly, a morbid kind of amusement appearing on his face as he bends down to plant a chaste peck on the child's brow.

"Now who's the liar?" he teases, not even waiting for a reply as he presses his lips to the corner of the boy's eye next, remaining like this for just a second longer than necessary. The sigh that rips from the man's throat as he withdraws from his lover is so deep, so _heavy_ that the white-haired prodigy's heart skips a beat, a gentle frisson titillating his spine in a way that he isn't sure whether he likes or not. "Does it feel good, pet? Hurting me back? Do you want to do it some more?"

The words fall hard on Toushiro's chest, crushing his lungs and ribs and making him shake all over under the man's touch. Intuitively relying on his bright mind to pull him out of this predicament, the younger lad opens his mouth to respond, a little surprised to find out that no sound would come out, no matter how hard he tries to produce one.

Gin's grin merely wilts around the edges at the silence.

"I kno' ya were cryin' in there," the man mutters, returning to his usual accented way of speaking, despite the fact that his tone is still as grave and as earnest as before. "I kno' ya were in pain. I could sense it with every cell in mah being, an' knowin' that _I_ had done this, _I_ had caused those tears an' yet I didn't even deserve the right ta try ta stop it… It was by far the worst thing I had eva' gone through." He slowly slides his hands off the boy's cheeks and bends down, leaning forward to press his forehead against Toushiro's smaller one in a soothing, defeated gesture that he has never resorted to before. "I love ya so much, pet… Ya havta understand, I ain't doin' these things on purpose… But there're people… _Someone_… who would do anythin' in his power ta watch me writhe fo' his own amusement. An' if that means hurtin' ya, if it means torturin' ya, both physically an' mentally… then he would do everythin' he can think of ta do jus' that. And I'm sorry, I'm _sorry _fo' all I've done… But I cannot lose you… I jus' _can't_…"

Something inside the boy brakes at that statement. A part of him – the part that wants to resist and keep pulling away from Gin and this destructive relationship – cracks and crumbles upon hearing this and he barely manages to keep his voice in check as he closes his eyes and reaches to touch the taller male's jaw:

"You won't tell me anything more, will you?" he utters in soft surrender, a morose little smile pulling on his lips. "You won't really tell me."

Ichimaru doesn't answer, simply keeping them pressed together as he waits for Toushiro to explain himself, to give an actual, real answer and voice their fate… And the boy knows that he must, and yet as the words come, honest and unbidden, he still doesn't want to say them, doesn't want to do this to either of them.

For he knows that Gin isn't lying and that whatever it is that he is trying to keep away from Hitsugaya, it must be big, it must be so much more dangerous than a simple and quick death. And for one second – only one single second – the boy lets himself be weak and imagine what he would do in Ichimaru's shoes… What he would do to protect the one he loves, what he would sacrifice, how much he would give up…

"You won't lose me…" Toushiro breathes, reopening his bleeding wounds wide and fresh with that statement. "It's okay. It's okay, Gin…"

And the sky tumbles off their backs, letting them live, letting them survive… And yet as the invisible needle tries to stitch up the shells of the shattered hearts, the near destruction is still very much visible. It can be tasted in the air. In their bodies. In their minds…

"Ya need ta trust me." The fox whispers carefully. "Dun ask questions, jus' promise ya'll listen… An' in return I'll stay fo' as long as ya want me ta. No more women. No more anyone."

Again those beautiful lies, and again that trustful smile, spreading with unwilling sadness across Toushiro's lips as he nods his head. 'Alright', the boy realizes as he bites back the tears, is the only answer he could ever give.

* * *

_**A/N: One more to go.**_


	3. Chapter 3

**_A/N: Final chapter. The lemony part is in LJ, read the warnings at the top before you read it. Well... I'm glad it's done. Ignore any errors. My head is so bleary right now... That's what stress does to you. You can check out and vote in my new poll now._**

* * *

Slumbering Shadows

Part 3

_The third time they fight is about treason…_

The scent of the rippling night is not something that the tenth devision captain hasn't been acquainted with many a time during the last hundred years of his life, and yet the mellow joy of inhaling this fragrance when there is no one to choke you with their own words and their own thoughts, is by far the most amazing feeling one could ever hope to experience. Hidden in the labyrinth of narrow and dusty streets – the routes that no shinigami would ever prefer before the effective and quick journeys that the rooftops can provide – Toushiro allows his feet to do their job today, the black hood and the cloak that he's wearing granting he would remain invisible if he is careful enough. He can taste the cold, crispy loneliness, bouncing like a silent moan in the darkness, and he is surprised to discover that the sensation only heightens his excitement, his overpowering need to reach his destination as fast as possible.

With every quickened step he is making the everyday worries and the problems that come with his job remain further and further away in the distance, peeling off his skin like dry snowflakes, whose nonexistent weight is so painfully dependent on the whims of the wind. The breath catches in the boy's throat several times as some unidentifiable nocturnal noise brakes through the silence that only his own legs insist on ruining, but none of his suspicions are justifiable. A turn here, a turn there, he slinks along the slumbering buildings similarly to a rat that is running away from fire, but his movements are not fueled by fear or driven by the desire to put some space between himself and what he's left behind. No, tonight Hitsugaya Toushiro doesn't want to allow his pessimistic, murky thoughts to spoil what he knows would be a memorable rendezvous. He wants a loophole, he wants to be spared the mundane bitterness of his endless days, the troubles with the recent death of one of his colleagues and the rumours of conspiracy that try to get to him, to activate some cell in his brain which he is fighting to suppress if only to keep his sanity in check…

_There it is…_

Slowing down to a stop, the boy pulls the edges of his cloak tighter around himself, discreetly searching for another presence with each and every one of his senses, despite the fact that he is sure the person he's supposed to meet can hide from him with no difficulty if he so desired. A blow of wind ruffles the crown of the trees that stretch in awry angles to his right and he perks up, peering in the angular shadows. The moonlight dances groggily along the cold stones, the rough soil and the colourless stems, but he never gets to stare long enough to be sure there's nothing hiding there before a familiar darkness flits across the mildly illuminated ground and a hand covers his mouth to muffle the started gasp.

"_Shhhh_…" the hush sounds long, and thick and the tiniest bit amused in the boy's ear and although he hates the condescension that he's sure he would see in the other one's gaze if he turned around now, the instinct to fight drains from Toushiro's body faster than water between spread fingers. A spindly arm wraps around the white-haired captain's middle and he is pulled back, flush against a taller, stronger torso and a chest that heaves in such a slow and calm rhythm that the genius can't help the jolt of jealousy that shoots through him at the realization of how fast and irregular his heartbeat is. He doesn't expect Ichimaru to let him go immediately and the man most certainly doesn't intend to, enjoying in that slightly twisted way of his the proximity and the mild sense of control that this position is giving him. "Ya're late," the third captain mutters, never properly berating his lover. "What did I tell ya bout keepin' me waitin'?"

Toushiro can't answer immediately – mostly because the other one's palm is still covering his mouth – but when Ichimaru _does_ retrieve his hand, two long pale fingers still remain, pressing ever so slightly on the boy's lips. He can't tell what it is, how something so simple, when done by the man behind him, can affect him in such a way, but the plain, oddly erotic touch sends a wave of heat down his body anyway, _drowning_, pulling him under for a long second that seems to last a century.

"It couldn't have been more than ten minutes," Hitsugaya points out as calmly as possible, his breath dancing over and around Gin's fingertips. He hears the other one chuckle softly behind him, a thin, straight nose burying in the younger shinigami's hair for a moment before the man loosens his hold on his prey.

"Felt like foreva' fo' me," Gin protests softly as he watches Toushiro free himself from the cage of limbs and turn around to face his lover, a brief implication of a smile quirking the side of the boy's mouth. "I've been 'ere fo' awhile."

"Nothing I can do about that."

"Ya could've been punctual." With that, Ichimaru swiftly dives for a peck, keeping the contact as brief as possible before he gives the smaller male another lopsided grin. "Ran-chan's bein' a bad influence. Ya're becoming a slacker."

Toushiro opens his mouth to object against the accusation, mildly offended that it's _his_ promptitude that is being criticized when it's usually _him_ waiting for Ichimaru to show up, but he never gets to start his speech as he is suddenly towed away from the small juncture where they have been standing, and into a side alley that is almost claustrophobically narrow. The man's hand is uncomfortably tight around the ice wielder's wrist and for a moment the boy wonders if he's made his partner mad for real. The idea is quickly pushed aside though. _No_, after all this time, Hitsugaya knows better than anyone what kind of things could set off the eccentric captain of the 3rd division, and being slightly late for their admittedly rare dates is just not one of those stimuli. As they maneuver down the small street and then into another, the younger male's curiosity grows, but he doesn't attempt to ask any questions, knowing that his lover would only prolong the torture of anticipation if he knew the smaller shinigami was becoming restless. Several minutes later, Ichimaru stops in front of the door of a small, two-story building and looks around briefly before pulling out a shiny key to unlock the entrance.

"What is this place?" Toushiro hisses in confusion, slightly uncertain in the unfamiliar environment, but the older captain just chuckles under his breath before pulling them both inside the black stomach of the house.

Even with his eyes already adjusted to the twilight of the unconscious district outside, the thick darkness of the place remain impenetrable for the boy and he lets out a discontent sound, instinctively stepping back towards the door that he has come from. Gin seems in no way bothered by the lack of light though as he wraps a reassuring arm around his lover's waist and gently guides him forward, towards a destination that he's obviously rather familiar with.

"Careful, steps," the man warns and Toushiro drags his foot forward, finding the beginning of the staircase and slowly starting to mount it with his lover's whispers fluttering near his cheekbone to direct him through the unfamiliar place. It feels like they're climbing for hours before they once again reach flat ground, although even without counting, the boy knows it's been no more than 10 steps till the second floor. Both of Gin's hands on his elbows and the man's body pressed closely to his own from behind, the young genius feels embarrassingly thrilled by this little adventure, his heart making the smallest jump when the taller male once again mumbles near his ear-shell. "Close yer eyes now. I dun want ya ta see right away."

"You're kidding, right?" Hitsugaya replies, his language divested of its usual, formal valve. "I didn't go through enough?"

He hears Ichimaru chuckle beside him, obviously quite enjoying this unfair situation, and he has to press his lips together to keep himself from spitting out a childish offence in the man's direction. It's always the same thing – Toushiro tries to be calm, to be reasonable enough to make the right decisions, while Gin (whether inside or outside the bedroom) strives to push the diminutive captain out of his comfort zone, to bring out that surprisingly fiery core that is hidden deep, deep inside its ice coffin. It's a ritual that never seems to end anywhere, and yet Hitsugaya loves it just as much as he claims he hates it. Maybe because he knows it's only Ichimaru who's entitled to strip his mask off in such a way, maybe because he just enjoys letting the taller male do it… What can be more beautiful than not knowing?

"So eager, pet… Always so eager…" Gin utters lowly, the tone ruffled by the smallest hint of amusement as he drags a deliberate knuckle up the genius' jawline, all the way to the boy's ear. "Haven' I taught ya that the best things come when ya wait long enough?"

Toushiro's throat goes dry at the implication, the presence of the other shinigami behind his back and the brief touch of the man's bare skin to his own, making his lashes flutter and his breath swell in his chest into a dull, needy ache. It's only been a few ambiguous words – nothing more, nothing less - and yet the sweet, lust-filled syrupy texture of the voice in which they are spoken, makes the boy's knees go weak as the all too familiar heat pools between his legs, plucking all remnants of common sense from his head. He feels a hand on the small of his back, pushing him forward, and he realizes with a bit of shock that not only has he closed his eyes, but he is also waiting for the instructions to come. He moves as Gin tells him to, guided by the susurrations in his ear and the fingers that carefully hold his elbows, and although this blind kind of trust is supposed to make him feel vulnerable, exposed, _weak_, it does exactly the opposite – it makes him feel safe. _Protected_.

Several moments later, he hears a door creak, most likely opening for him to walk through, and he can tell he is crossing a threshold, entering a place that is warmer, cozier than the one they are coming from.

"Can I?" Toushiro inquires, brows smoothing out from the slight frown that they have been forced into the past few minutes. He can see light through his closed lids, soft, red-and-golden light, accompanied by the strong scent of flowers and burning logs. The urge to peer is almost impossible to suppress and the young captain bites his lower lip, bouncing impatiently on the balls of his feet before he realizes how immature and foolish that might look. "Gin. Can I look?"

"Jus' a second."

The man's hands disappear for a trice and then a key twists in the lock, producing a soft click. Then Ichimaru's presence is right beside Toushiro again and a pair of fingers brush gently through the boy's white locks.

"Ya can look now."

When Hitsugaya opens his eyes to finally perceive the surroundings and whatever it is that his lover has been hiding from him, he doesn't even manage to gasp, his lips parting mutely as he stares in a mix of shock and amazement at the scene before him.

The room is small in itself – probably half Toushiro's office, both in length and width – and it's painted in earthy colours that melt in the dimness provided by the few randomly scattered wax candles and the large fireplace that is burning hospitably in the left corner. Midway between the door and the opposite wall there is a small round table, its lacquered surface adorned by a single red rose in a black vase, as well as two empty wine glasses and a bottle of the crimson liquid. Situated across the biggest source of light and warmth, there is the bed - a large, queen-sized monster with a heavy dark blue canopy and a pair of twin bedside tables flanking it like chubby soldiers. The curtains of the two small windows are drawn tightly close to prevent any curious eyes from sneaking a peek, and yet despite the isolation, despite the rather modest space, there is nothing hostile or thoughtless about what Ichimaru has created. Especially since-

The boy's breath hitches, hands flying to his face to cover his mouth.

"Gods, Gin-" he whispers. "How did you-"

He can almost see the grin on his lover's face soften into a tiny smile – one that appears oh-so-rarely and is saved solely for Toushiro to witness – but right now all that he can think about, all that is occupying his mind, is the image of the hundreds of flowers that are showering the room.

Apart from the lonely red rose, standing like a castaway among a sea that it can never, ever cross, like a drop of blood that has landed in a pile of dry snowflakes, the rest of place, every single square meter of it, is covered in _white_. White calla lilies, pearly little blossoms of jasmine, vanilla-coloured liliums, gentle ivory tulips and childishly smiling daisies, the flowers are spread across the bedside tables, the mattress, the canopy, the window frames, chairs and the whole expanse of the floor (safe for a small aisle that leads to the bed) akin to a heaven-sent veil that pulses and flutters as though it's alive. Like an indescribable miracle, the tender petals have swallowed everything mundane, ugly or tainted about this meager sanctuary, turning it instead into a temple that is precious and pure, and simply too beautiful for a mere mortal. The imperfection of the human touch, reflected and soaked in the affection and care with which this has all been prepared, makes the scene all the more touching, closer to the heart and more valuable than any amount of gold, silver or diamonds.

"Do ya like it?" Gin asks softly and Toushiro feels himself melt at the hint of apprehension that he feels, hidden underneath the hundreds of layers of the older male's voice. "I wasn' sure if it wouldn' be a bit too much fo' yer taste… Ya're always so-… Well. Ya kno' betta than anyone."

The pause that follows is a patient, accepting chunk of silence and although he has been trying to teach himself to keep his composure in check regardless of the situation, Toushiro can't help it but turn around and grab the front of his lover's cloak, looking up at the pale face for real for the first time that night. Ichimaru's hands fly to his waist, holding him lightly as he peers at the boy's eyes with his own slightly cracked red ones, but he still doesn't say a word, expecting the smaller captain to be the first to speak.

"It's so-… It's so beautiful, Gin…" Toushiro whispers, voice trembling with a kind of emotion that he can't completely fathom. His heart is aching, tightening and beating like a living creature that wants to escape his chest, and he doesn't know – he can't understand – why this hurts so bad, why he wants to cry when all that he should be doing, is drowning in the affection that is so rarely presented to him with such honesty.

"Will ya remember it?" Ichimaru asks, his tone strange, distant somehow as he once again lifts his hands, this time to cup the smaller male's face between his large palms. "Do ya think ya'll be able ta recall this, after some time?"

For a moment Toushiro feels the insane urge to pull away, to question this sudden gesture of love which he knows has most certainly cost the older captain many headaches and troubles, but the inexplicable desperation that has washed over him along with the doubts about Gin's true intentions, are quickly pushed aside when he realizes just how stupid he is being. _Goddammit, could you just __**stop**__ ruining everything? _He wants to kick himself, to reprimand his own weak mind for ever picking up a forlorn vibe in the man's voice – because, surely, there was no such thing - but he restrains himself from giving away his frustration, merely quirking his lips in a soft smile for the person before him.

"You should know my answer," he says quietly, but in return, Gin shakes his head.

"I wanna hear it."

_I want to remember you saying it._

"How could I ever forget?" Toushiro whispers, almost as though he's sharing a secret that he could never tell anybody outside their little private bubble. Before he can say anything else, however, Ichimaru's mouth is covering his own, kissing him long, and deep, and slow, with sweet, sweet abandon that promptly shreds to pieces the reality around them. It last moments, and it lasts years, too, but when the man finally pulls back to let his lover breathe, Toushiro is so smitten and lost in the other one's arms, that he almost doesn't hear the taller captain's next words.

"Happy Anniversary, love."

Toushiro's eyes snap wide open and he gasps in mortification, his mind suddenly going completely blank except for the realization of what he has failed to recall in time. The apology bubbles somewhere in the pit of his stomach and ties his insides in hundreds of knots, but for some inexplicable reason, he doesn't seem capable of getting anything out as the guilt piles up in his mouth and makes him stutter instead of saying anything sensible. He can see Gin staring at him with what seems to be amused curiosity, and to his utmost horror, he merely manages to produce one thing:

"I completely forgot!"

"Well, ain't that ironic?" Gin teases with a bit of playfulness, but Hitsugaya can't seem to find it in himself to let things go so quickly.

"Oh, God, I'm so sorry! I'm _so _sorry! It slipped my mind, with all the things that have been going on, and the paperwork, and Matsumoto, and the ryoka, and-and Kuchiki Rukia's execution that is coming up _tomorrow_-"

"Toushiro… Toushiro, it's fine, pet."

"No, it's not fine!" the boy insists irritably, making a momentary attempt to pull away, only to be held back by a mightily unimpressed Ichimaru. "It's just not fair, you did all these things and I just forgot, I _forgot_! How could I even- How can _you_ act-"

"Like it's nothin'?" Gin finishes with a slightly sarcastic flair in his tone as he tilts his head to the side to take a better look at the sullen young prodigy. "Because it is. It's nothin'. I wanted ta do somethin' special fo' ya, and I would've done it with or without it bein' our anniversary. So stop ruinin' the evening an' jus' don't worry about it."

"But-"

"_No_ buts," the man says, much more firmly now, tucking a knuckle under the boy's chin to make the younger shinigami look up. "Can't ya loosen up an' enjoy yerself there fo' a minute? It's not our first anniversary an' it's not gonna-"

And then Gin suddenly stops, cutting himself off so abruptly that Toushiro nearly flinches. The grin slowly fades from the man's face, leaving something darker, harder to decipher beneath the surface, but just as the first signs of dread start crawling up the genius' spine, he is roughly pulled into a kiss. The boy makes only one feeble attempt to struggle, groaning in displeased confusion in the other one's mouth, but as the taller captain deepens the kiss, sneaking both hands to the white-haired genius' lower back to pull their bodies even tighter into one another, the frustrated sound melts into a moan of undeniable need. Hitsugaya's arms slowly lift to wrap around his lover's neck as they mould together, skin rubbing against skin as the longing for the delayed physical contact finally takes control over their bodies.

"Gin-" the boy tries to gasp between the hard kisses, but the other shinigami doesn't seem to want to hear anything, seizing Toushiro's lips once again and forcing them open to taste even more of his small lover, to poison even deeper the child's innocence, to tarnish what has once been pure and bring out everything debauched, decadent and depraved from the core of the infamous ice-prince…

"I'm gonna fuck ya so hard t'night, ya're gonna forget yer own name."

* * *

_Visit my profile page for the missing scene._

* * *

When the delirium from the act finally starts fading away and Toushiro's world slowly begins adjusting in its contours, the boy becomes aware of the fact that he is pressed to his lover's side, an idle hand stroking down his bare arm as Gin nuzzles at the crown of snowy hair beneath his face. For a long moment, it feels impossibly peaceful to lie side by side like this, too normal, too sweet... The slowing heartbeat of the person beside him and his own pulse, which gently catches up with the rhythm of the chest beneath him, is a song that quietly soothes his nerves and eases his mind till the landscape inside his head is finally empty, serene, pure. _What is wrong with you today, Gin? _The boy nearly nods off in the beautiful bubble that is surrounding him, basking in the rare generosity of open affection that Ichimaru is bestowing upon him, but despite his wishes and the need to just let go, he can't seem to be able to fall asleep. Something is keeping him awake. Something is alerting his exerted senses and preparing him for a battle that he isn't ready to fight…

_Why? Why can't we just be happy?_

The next hour or so is spent in comfortable silence – one that can only be achieved if you've known a person for long enough and you've been acquainted with their habits and thoughts to the point where their mind is a part of yours. It's an unbeautiful union, Toushiro often thinks, what he has with Gin, what they share behind closed doors and beneath the surface of a faintly transparent act… but at times like now he can't bear judging their relationship so harshly… They have their moments when the light falls just right and the shades cover up the cracks in their liaison – it's more than he could ever ask for. Loving. Being loved. Albeit for the price of so much more hurt than he could ever imagine...

Who said perfection ever existed? Was ever worth fighting for?

Toushiro closes his eyes.

* * *

When the urgent tickle of the duty finally begins nibbling too persistently on the boy's nerves for him to remain calm, he pulls away from his lover with a slow sigh, surprised to find Ichimaru's gaze locked with blood-freezing earnest on his face. The stillness of the larger body had almost convinced Toushiro that the other captain was asleep and he can't help the slight whoosh of air that leaves his lips at the shock of realizing he has been watched all along.

"I've got to go," Hitsugaya mutters reluctantly, carefully untangling himself from the strong embrace and the snare of the sanguine orbs that are staring with unreadable intensity at him. "You need to, as well. The execution is in a couple of hours."

"Is it?" Ichimaru asks in a voice that is painfully devoid of any emotion. "I had forgotten about that.."

For a long moment Toushiro ponders whether to question the strange tone that has suddenly painted the other one's words, but eventually he decides to just let things go, slinking out of the bed gracefully and planting his bare feet on the floor. He can feel Gin's eyes on his back, unusually hard, almost accusing really, and after the delectable love-making, he is surprised to find his previously hot body growing so cold so fast under the unrelenting gaze. Whether he's said the wrong thing or picked the wrong moment, Hitsugaya isn't sure, but the contemplation is making him feel like a child that has misbehaved and he can't help the dull surge of worry that passes through his body as he gets up and begins gathering his clothes. Ichimaru's piercing red slits are everywhere with him, on him, _inside_ him, hampering his gait and messing with his mind even when unaccompanied by any speech or touch. He hears the fox sitting up in his bed, still peculiarly mute despite the slightly hostile air that is rolling off of him, and the boy turns around, already pulling his pants up and fastening them around his thin waist.

"Please, Gin," the boy whispers meekly, brows drawing together in a concerned expression as he tilts is head to the side. "You know that I want to stay just as much as you do, probably even more. But we have our responsibilities, we _need_ to get going."

Ichimaru shakes his head at that, lips slowly stretching in their customary grin as he allows a thin chuckle to break from his chest and fill the hollow air between them. There is no real amusement in the sound that leaves him and when the man starts talking again, crooning as though he's explaining something to a child or a kitten, there is a painfully bitter edge to his peculiarly quiet voice, a sharp insinuation that the younger male can't seem to be able to comprehend:

"So this is what it feels like, huh?" Gin mutters with forced ease. "Watchin' someone go an' knowin' there's nothin' ya can do ta stop them? Is it like that every time? Every time I dun stay?"

Toushiro's heart skips a beat, an unreasonable flood of guilt pumping through his veins and into his very soul as the seemingly innocent enquires pull on each and every string that holds him together. He opens his mouth to respond and defend himself, the dry arguments about work and duty crowding his head like a swarm of buzzing bees, but somehow none of the things he was planning to say seem important enough to excuse him for ruining today and for abiding the exact same pattern of behavior that he's always accused Ichimaru for following.

"Gin, I-" _This isn't my role to play, my mask to hold... I don't want to be the one to do the walking away_. "I know you tried so hard for this, I wish we could appreciate it for real… You have to understand, more than anything I want us to have the time… But we just really, really _can't_, and I'm sorry… This was supposed to be our night."

_Our_ night, goddammit, and then you wonder why he never does anything for you, Toushiro…

"Yeah," Ichimaru agrees with a jolt of his brow, his face as blank as ever despite the ever-present sneer that gives a twisted flair to his expression. "Ironic, huh? It was meant to last… This time it really _was_ meant to last. But I dun really get such luxuries, do I? _No_… Not after everythin' I put ya through… I guess I deserved what I got, didn' I?" And then, before Toushiro has had the time to process those words, Gin's face has lightened up and he gestures towards the table that is standing a couple of feet away from the boy. "Do ya mind brinin' the wine? I figured at least we could share a glass before we take off, hm?"

The thought of denying Ichimaru never even crosses the smaller male's mind as he pads towards the plain piece of furniture and grabs the bottle and the two glasses, swiftly carrying them back to the bed, where he gingerly sits on the edge and hands the things over to his beloved, jade eyes still full of heart-wrecking apprehension. He might be imagining things, putting worries and concerns into his own head when he has no ground to do that, but a couple of times he is almost sure he sees Gin's fingers tremble, moving with a hint of clumsiness that is more than a little alarming for someone as dexterous as the 3rd division captain. Toushiro watches as the man opens the wine and pours a generous amount of the thick crimson liquid into both of the glasses, handing one to him and keeping the other to himself, and regardless of the meaning of the ritual, the boy feels every bit of thirst disappearing from his mouth at the sight of the drink.

"Ya ready?" the man purrs, putting the bottle on the floor beside the bed before moving closer to the younger captain, the proximity enough to send a mild shiver down the teen's back. Hitsugaya glances down at the richly coloured alcohol in his hold, a heavy feeling pulling on his stomach despite the knowledge of how harmless and yet important this all is for Gin, and he breaths out slowly to sooth his rippling intuition. With a weak smile on his lips, he nods, only the slightest bit surprised when Ichimaru leans in to kiss him sweetly on the mouth. "Happy Anniversary, Toushiro."

The sound of clinking glasses echoes around the empty room and funnily enough, Hitsugaya feels a wave of dizziness wash over him as he watches his lover lift the wine to his lips. _Why does this seem so wrong? Why can't I enjoy any of it? _Swallowing the lump that has gathered painfully in his throat, the boy quickly takes a sip from his drink, desperate to pour some strength into his system via the burn of the alcohol. The rich taste spreads fully over his tongue, equal parts bitter, sour and sweet, and he lets a sound of approval, positively lost in the symphony of flavours that so ironically remind him of his relationship with Gin. The warm tingles skip and float down his limbs, making his toes curl for a trice in sincere delight, the tiniest of smiles blossoming in the corner of the genius' lips. He takes one more gulp - a braver, bigger one - enjoying the easy way in which the liquid slides down his throat, and once he decides he has had enough, he promptly chases away the thrills of the wine and straightens up. With a small sigh, the boy picks himself up from the bed, facing his still half lying lover and opening his mouth to say they need to leave now, when something strange makes him pause.

"You-" Toushiro's brows knit together as he watches Ichimaru put the glass away, slit eyes contemplating with something akin to curiosity the now standing captain. "You didn't drink."

The effect of the beverage hits him like a bullet in the head and he gasps, feeling his vision blur as his fingers go limp around the glass he is still holding. Before he can even try to fight the unexpected weakness, the cold, delicate object slips from his loose hold and flies towards the floor, only to be caught with the precision of an attacking snake by the limber hand of the older man.

"Gin," the boy whispers, but before he can finish his sentence, his knees buckle and he nearly collapses, caught midway by a familiar arm that gently holds him up by the waist. "Gin, what-… What did you give me?"

"Shh, it's okay, let yerself go, 's gonna make ya feel all better, ya'll see…" Ichimaru's voice sounds somewhere nearby and Toushiro scrambles to cling to the man's body, surprised to find out that he can barely move his limbs at all, let alone hold onto anything. The 3rd captain's arms feel secure, though strangely cold around him, and Hitsugaya groans as he his picked up and laid on the bed, the dim room around him going in and out of focus, as though following the pulse of his own body. "I was hopin' ya wouldn' push me ta drug ya so soon… Guess I should've known yer insecurities would get in the way of the lil time we had left..."

Is that bitterness, _anger _he's sensing there? Toushiro nearly hiccups in hurt and confusion, fingers brushing against his lover's ones for a brief second before he is left to reach out emptily for the man's hand as Gin moves away to find his own clothes.

"Please…" the boy manages hoarsely, longing for the comforting touch that he is now cruelly being denied. His lover doesn't even glance at him as he adjusts his sash and pulls the long black sleeves up his spindly arms. "You have to tell me… What's happening?"

He hears Ichimaru growling in annoyance, the swish of garments being pulled on echoing around the room even more distinctly than before, almost as though to emphasize on the hurried dressing up that denotes the rushed prelude to what Toushiro would latter recognize as treason.

"Always these stupid questions, pet, always these _stupid_ questions..." comes a cruel, agonizingly cold response. "If ya were nearly as smart or as inquisitive as ya try ta make yerself look, ya would've already figured it out by now."

Toushiro's lungs tighten, a deep gnawing pang of pain brewing somewhere inside of him as the words drill holes through his heart. The heaviness in his body has grown tenfold by now and he is almost certain he is supposed to feel numb, untouchable for the harsh things that his lover is shoving down his throat. Yet here he is, struggling to remain awake as his mind absorbs every offence and every bit of irritation that oozes from the older captain like venom.

"Why are you doing this to me?" he chokes out, surprised by the fact that he has managed to produce such a long question at once. His lungs contract in a brief spasm, the effort to remain conscious becoming a bit too much as he tries to hold back the moisture that is gathering as a thin, glistering layer over his eyes. "Why did you bother with all these things tonight?"

"Because ya're a child, Toushiro," Gin sneered, rounding the bed till he is standing right before the lying captain, one brow arched with dark amusement. "Ya shouldn' have gotten involved with the big kids in the first place. Dun act all shocked an' offended now that ya've realized that the game was too hard fer ya ta keep up with. Ya were fun ta be round… But fun was all it was, all it would eva' be."

Hitsugaya's chest heaves, pushing up and down as he tries to shake his head to deny what he's hearing. A peculiar wet feeling drags down his cheek, making his shoulders hitch faintly as he struggles to keep Ichimaru's gaze.

"What have you done, Gin?" he whispers painfully, dread and pity seeping in his wan voice. "Why are you lying to me?"

The pause is long, too long. And then Ichimaru kneels to the boy's eye-level, features slightly softer, grin gone, wiped out by an almost humane frown. For a single fleeting moment, Toushiro sees the regret that has been layering for years and years beneath the foxy mask that his lover is always wearing, and the sight is more petrifying, more tragic than anything that he has ever seen before. He witnesses a glimpse of all that Gin has been trying to hide from him, all the unresolved guilt, the remorse and concern, and _fear_… and he doesn't know what to say, what to do to make it better.

"I'm sorry," the man mutters quietly, turning his face away when Toushiro tries to touch it. "I jus' can't have ya there when it happens. Please, don't hurt. _Please_. I always wanted you to remain out of it."

It's only when Gin gets up and turns towards the door that Toushiro realizes that he is going to be left behind, that he was lured here, in this beautiful, yet godforsaken place _for a reason_. He tries to scream, to call out, but he can barely manage a weak breath as he watches as though through some nightmarish dream as his beloved walks away from him. Distantly, he hears himself whimpering, calling out for Gin to come back, to stay… He tries to push his body to move and obey his commands, but even he knows it's useless. He must be a pathetic sight really, a pathetic, idiotic sight. Even his anger makes no different, broken as his words are, and _frail_, peeling at the edges like old paint.

"You can't… You can't do this! You said you _loved_ me!" he cries out finally, clinging to his last smithereens of willpower. Ichimaru pauses at the door, glancing briefly over his shoulder at the person he recently promised his heart, life and future... And a dark, almost desperate shadow twists the man's sharp features as he takes in the room and the surroundings for one last time.

"And I love you," he mutters. "Which is why I have to go…"

The door slams shut and Toushiro's world goes black.

* * *

"_When was it for you?"_

"_Hm?"_

"_When did you-… when did you realize for the first time that… you know."_

"_That I was in love?"_

"_Yeah…"_

_Chuckle._

"_Ya should kno', pet, ya should bloody kno' by now... It was the very first moment I saw ya. Afta that… There was no goin' back fo' me."_

"_The very first time?"_

"_Ah, yes, 's a very good story, actually. Ya were jus' a kid back, still studyin' ta become a shinigami. The whole of Sereitei was talkin' bout ya, an' how young ya were, an' how ya had managed ta get yer shikai at such a tender age."_

"_I- I don't think I remember-"_

"_Ya can't possibly, cuz ya didn' see me, pet. I was curious – an' perhaps annoyed, too – by the whole fuss an' all the groundless praises. I wanted ta see who this kid was that everybody were so impressed by; I wanted ta find 'im an' play a lil bit, mess with his head… So I went back ta the academy an' asked about, searchin' fo' this so-called prodigy. Can ya guess what I found?"_

_Sigh._

"…_Nothing."_

"_Aw, dun look so down, pet… Ya were pretty famous around the school, people were aware who ya were an' what ya could do... They jus' didn' seem ta kno' what ta think bout it all. I thought then that I shoulda figured it out that ya would be a lone wolf, jus' like me. But at that point… I guess at that point I still had no idea jus' **how** alone ya were._

"_An' then I found ya… Ya were sitting outside the academy grounds, hidden away from sight near a large tree beside the river. I can still see it as clear as day, even though I had ta hide ta even have that picture inside mah mind… Ya were sittin' there, facing the opposite coast, with yer kness drawn ta yer chest an' yer arms wrapped round them… Ya were jus' this tiny, skinny ball, curled into the corner of the world, an' ya looked as easy ta shatter as a fresh icicle._

"_There was somethin' odd about the way ya looked, an' at first I didn't understand what it was. Then, as I moved jus' the slightest bit closer, I realized what had bothered me… I could see the tears rollin' down yer cheeks. So quietly. Ya weren't even sobbin', ya were just lettin' them fall, yer eyes glued ta some spot in the distance… I could swear I could smell the scent of salt and misery as I looked at ya, at yer faintly shakin' shoulders, at the tight hold ya had round yer knees an' the vulnerable crease between yer brows… Ya were hurtin' an' fo' the first time in mah life I dared imagine what it could be that ya were feelin', what had crushed ya so much, what had broken yer lil heart and destroyed yer spirit…_

"_Back then I didn' kno' bout Kusaka. I didn' kno' they had taken yer only friend away from ya an' left ya jus' as alone an' as isolated as ya've been before he showed up in yer life. But-… I could feel it, with every corrupted cell in my entire body, I could feel the pain that was coursin' through ya, the fear of being abandoned once again; I could taste it all. It was ridiculous ta think that, but when I saw yer face, yer eyes, yer hair, yer tiny hands and yer petite feet… I simply could not believe that someone could make something so beautiful this sad. I wanted-… God, how I wanted ta jus' come out an' comfort ya. But I was also scared. Fo' the first time in mah life I let mahself imagine what our conversation would be like, an' I realized, also, that I would irrevocably end up hurtin' ya. I could hear mahself say all the wrong things, jokin' bout stuff I should've neva picked up… I knew I'd find a way ta mock ya an' taunt yer youth, yer pain, yer tears…_

"_At that moment I hated mahself more than anythin'; I hated mah rotten nature, mah need ta destroy, mar an' blemish... An' in mah hatred, with the knowledge tha' I had no choice…"_

"…_That I should never hurt something this pure and this beautiful…"_

"_I walked away."_

"_To save us both."_

And I guess, at the end… I did not succeed.

**_The End._**

* * *

**_A/N: Well, I hope you enjoyed it. If not... well, just don't say anything. I just want to please one person and I hope she is happy with this. :)  
_**


End file.
